


On the Record

by Cybra



Series: Inheritance AU [5]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Family, Found Footage, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 17:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16163324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cybra/pseuds/Cybra
Summary: The journey to find the Spear of Selene was all on film.  Unfortunately, so was the moment it all came crashing down.





	On the Record

**Author's Note:**

> I held off on doing more of the Inheritance AU when I saw “The Spear of Selene!” for the first time because I wanted to see what direction the show was going in. I’m glad I did because some of the twists led me to changing a few things around. I wanted to put this out in time for Scrooge’s birthday, but I just missed it. Woe.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** _Ducktales_ belongs to the Walt Disney Company.

“Happy birthday, Uncle Scrooge!” Donald and Della chorused from somewhere off-screen, the view dominated by a massive four-tier cake covered with candles that the person with the camera was pushing on a cart.

“Did you really have to light a candle for every year I’ve been alive?  The Promethean candle would’ve been enough,” Scrooge complained, but he walked into view as the camera turned to look at him, the view blurring a bit from the person holding the camera moving it so fast towards him and Della. “And the helmet camera?  Really?”

“I couldn’t push the cake and carry the camera!” Donald said from somewhere out-of-view, now identified as the cameraman.

“I could’ve held it,” Della grumbled, starting to look a bit surly with one hand on the small of her back as the other subconsciously went to her already impressively-sized middle despite being only about three months along.

Perhaps Scrooge saw something in Donald’s expression that was out of view of the camera lens for he rubbed his temples.  “If you two give me only one present this year, let it be the gift of peace.  I’ve had enough fighting for one day.”

“Board meeting went that bad?” Donald asked, voice filled with sympathy.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”  Scrooge grimaced as he looked at the tightly-clustered candles threatening to trip the fire alarm.  “I thought you two loved me.”

“We do, Unk,” Della told him, mood swinging back into good cheer. “We also know you’ve got a perfectly good set of lungs.  Blowing out all these candles should be easy.”

The old man stuck his tongue out at his niece before taking a deep breath and blowing, walking swiftly around the cake to get all of them.  He coughed and took another breath to blow out the last few candles when his first breath was expended.

Della and Donald both clapped as Scrooge caught his breath.  It only took a moment or two before he grinned, moving closer to the camera as he hugged his niece and nephew.  “Thank you both.”

“That’s not it!” Donald chirped. “We got you something, too!”

“Well, more like found it.”  Della wandered off-screen, coming back a moment later with a shiny gold-wrapped box tied with a slightly-less-shiny red ribbon.  “We were hoping we’d find more before today, but since you’ve grounded me for the next several months, I’ll probably find more by the time the eggs hatch.”

Scrooge untied the bow before carefully unwrapping the paper which he started to fold.

“Come ooooon!” Donald whined.

“It’s perfectly good paper!  Can be used again!”  Scrooge set the wrapping paper aside and opened the box, peeking inside.  “Well, now.  What’s all this, eh?”  He retrieved a stack of pages and began flipping through them.

“I found a reference to Selene when I was looking over that paper with the findings from Oxford’s Lydian dig.  Apparently, one of the documents they found talked about a spear that was said to belong to her, some sort of powerful artifact.  I tried to get Dr. Anderson to send me a copy, but she said she didn’t work with ‘amateur treasure hunters’.”  Della’s beak curled at those last three words.

“Amateur!”  Scrooge’s nostrils flared, eyes narrowed and teeth bared.

“So Della’s been having me run errands to get her different books and stuff to try and find out more,” Donald said, hands entering the frame with his palms to his offended relatives as if that would placate them.

“Ah, so that’s what you’ve been up to.”  Scrooge’s feathers settled back down.  “And all this is what you two have found so far behind my back.  I take it you didn’t use my name so word wouldn’t get back to me.”

The view bobbed up and down while Della briefly nodded before stretching her back and grunting.

Scrooge beamed.  “I’m so proud of you both!  This is very impressive for only two month’s time with nothing but a few words to go on!  I knew you two were chips off the old McDuck block!”

The view wavered to one side as Scrooge hugged Donald.  Then it straightened again as Scrooge hugged Della briefly before leading her to a chair.

“Well, let’s start in on this monstrosity of a cake, shall—”

Before Scrooge could finish his question, the fire alarm started blaring, the tendrils of smoke from one hundred and forty extinguished candles wafting up and into the sensor.

The view jumped about as Donald started cursing unintelligibly as Scrooge buried his face in his hand and Della howled with laughter.

* * *

 

The next several videos seemed to take place in various libraries with Scrooge and Donald’s hands being the only parts of them visible, their voices in hushed tones too soft for the camera to properly register them.  They wore gloves as they carefully turned the pages of ancient tomes and unraveled even older scrolls which were the primary focus of the camera.

Given the delicate work, it was obvious that photocopying these crumbling documents was out of the question.  Flash photography was likely prohibited as well.  The video camera with the steady light from its own lamp provided a loophole.

* * *

 

The view was the cockpit of a plane this time.  Scrooge leaned over the back of the pilot’s seat, smiling contentedly as he glanced in the co-pilot’s seat.  Della sat in the pilot’s seat, now looking much trimmer than in the previous video she’d been part of.  Donald was the cameraman again.

The sound of crying caused Della to glance back and forth between the windshield and her co-pilot’s seat, her face distressed.

The camera looked down at the source of the noise: three little ducklings voicing their displeasure from the strapped-in bassinet, the clever little thing having a blanket and cover that was zipped up to hold them snugly in place.

“Probably the air pressure on their ears,” Scrooge noted. “They’ll calm down or fall asleep soon enough.”

“They want me, too,” Della said, glancing at them again.

“I can take the pilot’s seat if you wanna play with them for a moment,” Donald offered. “Uncle Scrooge can take the camera.”

“Thanks.”

The view jostled about as the camera was handed off.  Then Donald leaned over to grab the controls while Della unstrapped herself and eeled out of the pilot’s seat.  She buckled her brother in as soon as he sat down.

Scrooge turned the camera to look at Della who cooed at her boys, “My fussy little co-pilots!  What do you need, huh?”  She tickled their chins with her fingers, quieting the cries to whimpers.  “It’s your first adventure!  Are you excited?  Huh?  Oop, no, Dewford!  Don’t you start trying to wiggle out!”

The baby in blue screamed his anger at being forced to stay put, startling everyone.  The camera shook as the plane dipped for a moment before Donald recovered.

“Well, at least the worst of it will be over in a few more hours.”  Donald chuckled nervously.  “Right?”

“Aye.  We’re lucky the temple’s supposed to not be far from where we’re staying.  We’re going to take this one very slow.  I mean it, Della.  No rushing in like usual.  Dukas and his wife are being very generous to let us stay with them and to watch the boys while we investigate the area, but we can’t just jump in and possibly not come back out.  The Spear’s been there for almost two thousand years.  It can wait a few more days or weeks while we try to avoid setting off any traps.”

“Yes, Uncle Scrooge,” she said sheepishly.  She then smiled at the camera though she wasn’t looking into the device itself. “And thanks for letting me come along this time.  I was starting to go a little crazy.”

“Cabin fever gets to the best of us.  Plus you put in so much research for this expedition on top of everything else.  Both of you did.  Wouldn’t be right if you _both_ didn’t get to be here to unveil the Spear to the world.”

“Wait, you’re giving us top billing for this one?” Donald asked, squawking in surprise.

“You uncovered it and did the bulk of the work, so you certainly earned it.  This isn’t a Scrooge McDuck adventure; it’s a Donald and Della Duck one.  I’m just along to assist and finance it all.”

The baby in red whined and reached towards the camera.

Scrooge laughed, the view quaking a bit from it.  “No, you three don’t get your names on this one.  Gotta earn the right!  Maybe in a few more years you can show up your mummy and uncle, eh?”

* * *

 

Della was holding the camera this time.  Or, rather, it seemed to be the helmet camera was in use given that when the view swung upwards towards the circular opening, Scrooge could be seen guiding the rope and Donald could be heard grunting somewhere out of the shot.  Della’s hands were also in view, gripping onto the rope as she was lowered carefully.

“It’s incredible, Uncle!  It’s an entirely-underground temple dedicated to the moon!”

Sunlight reflected off of numerous ancient silver mirrors as the camera swung about to take it all in.  Then it looked downwards.

“Stop!”

The slow descent downward halted as Scrooge called, “What’s wrong, lass?”

“I think there’s a reflecting pool of mercury below me!  Hang on!  I’m gonna try and disturb the surface with something!”

The sun’s rays filtering down through the opening reflected off the silvery liquid below, backlighting one of Della’s hands going into her pocket to retrieve a rock.

“Pull me up a bit!  If it is mercury, I don’t want any of it to splash up on me!”

The sound of both Donald and Scrooge straining somewhere overhead was just barely picked up by the microphone as the pool fell farther and farther away.

“Okay stop!  That should be high enough!”

She dropped the rock which splashed down into the liquid and struck the bottom which resonated with a faint metallic _tink._   The surface of the liquid rippled.

“False alarm!” she called back up. “It looks like it’s just water!  But I think the pool’s lined with silver!”

“That’d explain why the villagers got sick from the water they pulled up after a while:  They were getting silver poisoning from the reflecting pool!” Donald shouted, voice excited. “They probably had no idea this wasn’t actually a well!”

“But it doesn’t make sense!”  The view swung back upwards to look at her uncle and brother who were leaning over the opening.  “Why line the reflecting pool with silver?!  You ever hear about anything like that, Uncle?!”

“It’s a new one on me!  What else do you see?!”

“Relief carvings cut in marble!  And plenty of silver mirrors around, all angled and—Oh!  Now it makes sense!  The temple’s underground, so this was how they lit the interior using the opening at the top!  The silver at the bottom of the pool made sure more of the light was reflected!”

“Still doesn’t make sense!” Donald called down. “Why not just use torches?!  Or oil lamps?!”

“We’re going to pull you back up, lass, so we can take a look at the footage before we go farther!”

With that, the video ended.

* * *

 

The next several videos went on for quite some time as they explored the temple little by little, mapping it out and carefully checking for traps while cautiously navigating the crumbling structure that was being split by the roots of the willow trees that circled the “well” above.  Finally, they ran into a wall that indicated it should have had some sort of doorway leading to a special ritual chamber.

There were also a few videos of each of the three adults taking their turns shooting the footage while the other two played with the three boys.

However, the most interesting one was the one that followed those, the trio of treasure hunters entering the temple during the full moon.  This time the camera was back in Donald’s hands.

“This is amazing!” Della shouted in delight. “Selene never mentioned anything about something like _this!”_

Moonlight reflected off of the pool and mirrors to fill the pool’s chamber and the connecting corridors which were also contained specially-angled mirrors.  The white marble further reflected the pale moonlight, seeming to softly glow.

The trio moved with well-practiced care around the roots and the fissures created by those same roots.  When they reached the wall, they found that it had opened to reveal a ritual chamber with more silver mirrors and more of the willows’ roots.  In the center, resting in a beheaded female statue’s hands, was a spear seeming to emanate moonlight rather than being lit by the reflection of the moon’s rays off of the mirrors.

“The Spear of Selene!  We found it!” Donald shouted as Scrooge hurried towards the far wall where writing glowed white.

“Donald, come over here and record this.  There’s no telling how long we’ll be able to read it.  I’d rather not have to wait until the next full moon.”

Donald did so, the view moving past Della who had only been able to gawk at the Spear.  The view zoomed in on the writing as Scrooge moved his fingers over the words.

“This is very clever.  They’ve got some sort of phosphorous paint inside the carvings so they’d glow.  Adds a rather dramatic effect to it all, doesn’t it?”  Scrooge then narrowed his eyes, leaning forward.  “Wait.  What is…?”

“What’s wrong?” Donald asked as Scrooge shushed him.

Then the old man’s eyes went wide, and he spun around and roared, **_“Della, don’t touch—!”_**

A shockwave of silvery-white energy slammed into the walls, the fissures starting to widen as stone falling against stone echoed in the chamber.  Della stood in the center with the Spear in her hands, her face blank and her finger pierced by the tip.

Donald squawked and started running towards his sister, stumbling over a crack in the floor.  Scrooge succeeded in reaching her, grabbing the Spear and forcing her hand off the tip.  Instead, he wrapped his hand around it, crying out in pain.

There was another, far brighter shockwave of power.  Donald’s hand came up and partially obscured the view moments before everything suddenly went dark except for the light from their flashlights and the temple started coming down.  Only Scrooge was nowhere in sight.

Della was no longer in the grips of her earlier trance, clutching the now-black Spear tightly in her hands as she looked around desperately.  “Uncle Scrooge!  _Uncle Scrooge!”_

The camera view jostled as Donald ran forward to grab her arm.  “Della, we gotta go now!”

“We can’t—!”

* * *

 

The screen suddenly going dark jerked the triplets out of the drama that had played out before their eyes.

Dewey got up and started looking frantically through the box beside Webby.  “Where’s the next DVD?!”

“There isn’t one,” Webby said sadly.

“You gotta be kidding!  That’s it?!  That’s the last one?!” Louie demanded.

“I told you, remember?”  Webby clapped her hands twice to bring the lights back up before raising the screen to show her board.  She pointed at the sign that said “THE LAST TREASURE”.  “The Spear of Selene was the last treasure hunt Scrooge went on before he disappeared.  There’s no footage after this except for news reports about the search, Scrooge being declared dead, and then your mom and uncle taking over McDuck Enterprises.”

“And after that, Mom and Uncle Donald started pressuring everybody not to talk about him,” Huey said sadly.

“So what did Scrooge read on the wall that made him try to warn Mom about the Spear?” Dewey asked.

“I don’t know,” Webby admitted. “I’ve freeze-framed and done my best to translate the writing, but it’s coded and I haven’t been able to figure out the cipher.  I think there might be a key to it in the notes on the Spear, but all of that research was locked up in the Archives years ago, and only Scrooge or his family is allowed inside.  The fact that all these videos were here at the mansion rather than the Archives was because Scrooge used to re-watch them with your mom and Uncle Donald.”

Weeks spent going over dozens of hours of video footage that Webby had carefully catalogued and organized by subject and timeline.  Only for it all to lead to a dead end.

“So why do you think he’s just missing?  I mean, that’s pretty definitive proof that he’s dead.  It’s all on camera,” Louie pointed out.

“Because Great-Uncle Scrooge wasn’t in the last shot,” Huey supplied, eyes wide with realization, before Webby could respond. “That light only lasted for a second or two, and the timestamp in the corner was still ticking up like normal.  Plus Mom always starts shouting like that when she’s freaking out about not knowing where we are.  If Great-Uncle Scrooge was still in the chamber and hurt, she would’ve been running towards him, not just standing there.”

“Right!” Webby chirped, pointing at him. “Plus the Greek authorities never were able to find even a trace of the body nor could they prove the footage was faked.”

“So…if he wasn’t buried in the temple…where did he go?” Louie asked.

* * *

 

“You’re gonna regret it.”

The drifter snorted as he leaned over the old man.  Around the old duck’s neck was what looked like a dime.  Not much, but it was better than no money at all.  He reached out to grab it, but the sleeping man’s hand came up and seized his wrist, gripping it tightly.  He yelped as the old man’s eyes flew open while twisting the drifter’s wrist so hard that the man wondered if he was about to feel his wrist break.

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to steal?” the old man growled in a Scottish accent.

“Easy, Pop,” one of the other vagabonds said, coming over to place a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “He’s gonna let go right now.  Aren’t you, Joe?”

Joe nodded his head up and down, tears in his eyes, as he released the dime.  Only then did the old man, Pop, relent.  He gingerly gripped his wrist.

“Where are we?” Pop asked.

“Almost to Duckburg.  You sure you want to get off here?  There’s supposed to be work farther south.”

“Aye.  I’ve heard nice things about this place.  Think I might want to settle down for good.  I’m getting too old for all this traveling.”  Pop sat up, moving his small bag of possessions closer to himself now that he wasn’t using it as a pillow.  “Figured I’d try to get work at Fisherman’s Wharf cleaning fish or something.”

The man who’d placed his hand on Pop’s shoulder swallowed.  “If you want, I can stick around, too?”

“No, laddie, you head on south.  Don’t you worry about me,” Pop assured him. “Pick a few extra cabbages for me, aye?”

The train began to slow, and Pop rose from his seat, taking a moment to stretch before picking up his bag of belongings.  He limped towards the door, settling himself in to wait the few minutes until the train came to a complete stop.

The younger man got up to stand next to him.

“Are you sure?  I mean, you’ll be all by yourself and—”

“Austin.”  Pop gave him a stern, tired look.  He then reached out to hug the dog man, patting him roughly on the back.  “I’ll be fine.  Take care of yourself.”

The train stopped, and Pop opened the door just wide enough to slip out.  He then hastily shut the door, plunging the train car into near-total darkness.


End file.
